Choosing The Imperfection
by funroulle
Summary: The perfect words to describe the personification of South Italy right now: vulnerable, afraid, and empty. He should have known Spain would leave him. It was only a matter of time. After all, that's how most of Europe is right now. If it wasn't Spain who was going to make him feel sunny and safe, then who would? The macho potato? Yeah, right. WWII era, germano, Germany x Romano


**Disclaimer: I don't own aph or any of its awesomeness.**

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Romano slipped his eyes closed, letting the feeling of loneliness and betrayal consume his entire being. "Fuck this…" he chanted over and over in nothing but a whisper; hoping God would come and end his life as quickly as possible. Groaning loudly, Romano punched his pillow in a mixture of frustration and confusion. "Fuck my life…! Fucking why!?"

Tears formed in the corner of his eyes but he didn't resist like he tried to before. He let it happen; he _wanted_ to cry—maybe he'd die of dehydration that way if he kept crying. If he was lucky.

~oOo~

The meeting was at Italy's house and he, Japan, and Germany were talking of ways to corner the Allies. Honestly, America and his petty little Allied Forces were pissing off Germany and Japan. Not so much Italy.

"Japan, Germany, would you like some pasta? I can make some! Ooh, but that would be a hard choice… Ravioli, rigatoni, spaghetti…maybe fettuccine? What would you want, they're all super delicious!"

Coping with Italy's constant falling asleep during these types of meetings had been bad enough for the other two to deal with. Now that they were actually in his house, Italy's obsession with pasta skyrocketed and there was nothing Japan could do to stop the man. Germany, on the other hand, knew exactly how to deal with him.

Germany slammed his fist onto the table, startling both Italy and Japan. "Feliciano, now is not the time to be making pasta! We are in the middle of war and if you don't _shut up_, we are going to lose this war! So be quiet and listen to what we have to say or you can get hurt badly!"

Looking down, Italy closed his mouth slowly. His smile numbly turned into a straight line and he sat down silently. "Okay Germany I can be quiet."

The German sighed and put a hand on his forehead, massaging it from the migrane he had recieved earlier. He told his boss nothing would get done if they came to Italy—country or person.

It's not like Germany hated the man! No, of course not! Feliciano was metaphorically a ball of warm fluffiness, perfect for cuddling and one would have to be heartless and unforgiving to hate him. And then the country of Italy was absolutely gorgeous!

Honestly, Germany really liked Italy _and _Feliciano.

Icy blue eyes stared from Japan to Italy then to Japan again. The Italian seemed almost depressed and it saddened the other two to see him like this. Italy was always cheerful, even after he'd been yelled at in the past.

Sighing again, Germany said, "Feliciano, if you want you may make us pasta. I did not mean to yell at you…so harshly…"

Italy stood up and shook his head, forcing a smile. "Yay!_ Grazie, grazie_!" He hugged the blond tightly and skipped towards the kitchen.

By an hour, the food was ready and the Axis Trio ate in relative silence. Well, besides Italy's moans of delight because the pasta was pretty damn good and perfectly made.

Japan bowed. "_Arigatou_, Italy-kun."

A large smile was plastered onto his face, tomato sauce still around his mouth. "Well of course Japan! And please stop being so formal, we're friends! You don't have to bow and say 'thank you'!" Italy hugged the Japanese man, who in turn squirmed under him.

Germany collected the three used plates and started to clean them in the sink. "Feliciano, let Japan thank you the way his people show gratitude; he's used to it." A warmness crawled its way up to his face and neck. "Also…_danke. _The food was delicious…"

Italy's smile grew larger, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Awww~! Thanks Germany!"

Germany mumbled a "whatever…" and turned his attention back to the dirty dishes so Italy wouldn't see the blush of being praised. Japan snickered. These two were _so_ perfect for each other.

"I'm tiiiiiiiiiireed..." Italy yawned aloud, hoping Germany heard him. Then maybe, just maybe, Germany would call off this awful meeting.

Having the question in mind already, Germany turned his head to Japan. "What about you?" he asked.

"It does seem rather late, Germany-san. Maybe if we went to sleep, Italy-kun will not whine tomorrow as much as today," Japan explained.

"I thought that during World War I, trust me it does not work…" Germany rubbed the back of his head. "But you're here now and Feliciano does seem to like you a lot… Would you mind helping to wake him up tomorrow Japan?"

"_Hai_. I will do whatever I can to help, Germany-san."

"Thank you," Germany said.

Italy jumped up and down in excitement. "Yay! We're gonna sleep finally! And I'm so happy! Japan and Germany are going to sleep over too!"

Germany sighed and Japan internally cried. Oh how he _hated_ sleeping in Italy's and Germany's houses. There was only one bed for the three of them to share in both houses. Japan somehow always ended up in the middle. Usually by the time Italy was asleep, an arm was sprawled on Japan's chest. And even Germany made some kind of contact with him. Even though the German had utmost respect for Japan, sleep took over and he doesn't have control over what he does.

It was _so frustrating!_

Italy ran towards the bedroom and knocked on the door. "_Fratello!_ Can I come in~?"

"'Fratello'?" Japan questioned, heavily accented.

Germany put a hand on Japan's shoulder—causing the man to shiver slightly at the contact—and explained to Japan how violent and disrespectful Romano was. In the most nicest way possible of course.

Japan would have scoffed. "He sounds very _tsundere._ So Romano is Southern Italy, Feliciano's _nii-san._"

Germany did not understand fifty-percent of what that sentence meant.

A muffled, "What the hell do you want bastard," sounded through the door.

"Er…" Italy wasn't sure how to phrase his request. "G-Germany and Japan are here and they need a place to sleep…and this is the only room…"

Romano stomped loudly, paused for about a minute, and stomped once again towards the door, opening it. If looks could kill, the other three would've been dead in less than a second. The glare in his eyes clearly meant "do not disturb or consequences are to come." Germany and Japan prayed for Italy not to infuriate his brother.

The redness in Romano's eyes didn't go unnoticed by Italy but he knew well not to question it. Instead he chose to hug his brother tightly, eliciting an angry and surprised yelp from Romano. "Grazie!"

"Yeah, whatever…" Romano stalked towards the couch. "Just don't let potato bastard ruin the bed. God knows he's so big…"

His eye met Japan's and he turned back without a word.

"Geez," Italy entered the room, followed closely by the other two. "I'm so sorry about Romano!"

Germany sat on the bed with Italy and Japan kept standing.

"Japan, you can sit too if you want," Italy chirped. His hand petted the bed and when Japan obliged, he grinned happily.

"Italy-kun I do not mean to dwell on the personal lives of others but your _nii-san _looked almost depressed. Is everything all right?" Japan chewed the inside of his lower lip, hoping he didn't make a mistake by commenting about Romano.

The brunet stared at the wall then at his lap, looking for some sort of response. In truth, he did not know if Romano was doing well at all. Today he looked like he was about to burst with irritation—and was he _crying _right before he opened the door?

Italy finally replied, "I _would_ go talk to Lovi but…he'd probably yell at me to go fuck myself." He laughed halfheartedly.

Germany to the right of him sighed heavily. "That's so Romano…"

"No, that's not right Germany! Lovino can be nice! He really is!"

Japan stared silently at the mingling two and he wished he had a pen and paper to draw the scene in front of him. Drawing a manga of these two would be absolutely perfect. He's already come up with a plot! _The main character Ludwig and his brother Gilbert work at a grocery mart. Ludwig meets Feliciano, a shopper who cries over a dropped tomato. Gilbert meets with the two and says it is all good and that Feliciano does not have to pay. So Feliciano comes to the market daily and buys pasta and always goes to Ludwig's register. Eventually, Ludwig and Feliciano fall in love and have hard, kinky sex._

Perfect.

~oOo~

He bowed his head down so dark auburn bangs would cover the tears starting to form in his eyes. _Fucking Spain and all his shit. I hate him so…fucking much! _Romano glared at the pillow nearest to him and hit it off the couch.

Romano sighed frustrated and stared at nothing in particular. His eyes were glued to nothing and no thought dared occupied his mind. And when he came to, he bit his tongue and decided to paint. To paint all the emotion and pain swelled up inside the man.

And yes, Romano knew how to paint. Hell, he was the original before Feli was born! It was just that…the Rennaissance was focused more on Northern Italy.

Romano wandered around the house, looking for _his_ set of paints. Of course he'd hide them—Veneziano might use them for when his own may run out.

He stepped and heard a _creak; _the paints were under the floorboards. Romano smiled.

The Italian grabbed the knife from his pocket and used it to flick off the nail. When all that was said and done, he pulled the bottles up from underneath the house and placed the board back, nailing it with the knife as quietly as possible.

Romano set up the canvas and brought the paints with him. He didn't need a brush. Such a thing was discarded a long time ago. When _Nonno_ was still alive and Romano was all of Italy, the painters who were peasants at that time could not afford brushes—and Romano barely remembered but he wanted to be just like them.

With almost no materials but passion splattered all over the canvas in a beautiful mess. It was a beautiful, lovely, kind of mess.

So he picked up splotches of paint with his thumb, and dragged the finger to create all his sorrow into one painting.

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**A/N: Fufufufufufu, GerMano, lovely GerMano. Roma-kun's tsundere-ness plus Doitsu's "I am so done with you yet I still care for you" stature is just perf.**

**Psssst. Did you see the fanfiction in this fanfiction? I mean, the part when Japan starts thinking about manga ideas XD**

**And you guys should be aware that Romano is the older one, he's probably been there since late BC era. Maybe that's how the Roman Empire got all its sexy paintings (fufufu pervy baby Roma.) And I inserted my headcanon there: before Feli being born, Lovi was the whole country of Italia. But to Lovi, Feli was a gift and of course he loved him and wanted to be a good big brother so he split himself in half—the part where he was born was for him and all the trade and goods was for Feli.**

**Translations:  
(I) Grazie: Thank you  
(J) Arigatou: Thank you  
(G) Danke: Thank you  
(J) Hai: Yes  
(I) Fratello: Brother  
(J) Tsundere: Someone who's hard and cold on the outside and expresses fake hate, but soft on the inside and warms up at lover's touch  
(J): Nii-san: Older brother**

**Basic translations...**


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